


Viewing the Infinite

by lady_mab



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, In which Booker dies 122 times before he makes it to the end, Multiverse, is it character death if it's a multiverse fic?, it's always heads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A theory: we are scattered amongst the possibility space. But my brother and I are together, and so, I am content. He is not. The business with the girl lies unresolved. But perhaps there is one who can finish it in our stead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One-Twenty

Robert glared down at the body by their feet, the yellow liquid trickling from the corner of his mouth, and blood from his ear. “Hm,” was all he said, lips twisted into the thinnest of frowns.

“Yet another,” Rosalind commented, in her ‘I told you so’ tone. “Number one hundred and twenty.”

“We’ll try again.”

“One hundred and twenty one won’t be any better.”

“ _We’ll try again._ ”

It was Rosalind’s turn to frown. “We should make a sign board for how many times he dies with the infusion.”

“He doesn’t die every time”

“About two thirds. Eighty seven, to be precise.”

“That means he makes it out one third of the time, or insofar, thirty three times.”

“He always chooses heads.”

“Yes, he does. But he only dies most of the time.”

“That makes it completely logical to continue pursuing this useless endeavour.”

“You know I hate it when you’re sarcastic with me.”

Rosalind stepped over the body, depositing the silver tray on the empty table and brandishing her hand in a rare fit of melodrama. “Dies, died, will die.”

“Lives, lived, will live. There is bound to be one that fits all these categories.”

“Thirty three of them fit the ‘alive’ category when they stepped out of this room, Brother, but not one of them stayed there for long.”

He stepped over the body as well, because it was dead, is dead, had died, and approached the woman. “We should go back--”

“ _Back_ \--” she scoffed.

“Fifty six showed promise.”

“If I remember correctly, fifty six is the one who had an unfortunate accident when he didn’t disembark from the airship before it crashed.”

“He made it that far. What is a little push to help him further.”

“Or a little tear.”

“Is that an agreement or an accusation?”

“I just don’t see why you obsess so much over this man. I thought it was done with the completion of the transaction?”

The corners of Robert’s mouth twitched, and his frown thinned. “You didn’t see him.”

“How odd for you to develop a conscience.”

“Just because you don’t have one--”

“ _I_ don’t?!” She might have laughed, had she been the laughing type. “Or did you forget, dear Brother, how alike we are?”

“No, I tend to forget how caring you can be when it comes the moral predicament of others.”

“Don’t try to take the high ground now. You were equally heartless when you insisted that I send you back.”

“Was?”

“You are, have been, will be.”

“Ah yes, then I suppose we are alike after all.”

“You still intend upon finishing this, don’t you?”

“The idea has been imprinted upon him. It’s not going to stop. The least we can do is help him.”

“No, the least we could is continue on our merry way. You are risking far too much by chasing after this fancy of yours.”

Robert looked back at the body in the doorway, wondered how much better for him it was that he was dead here, in this world, and in one hundred and nineteen others. Was this his lot? To chase after a man spread across space in order to lend an unwanted hand? It was his fault, in the first place. _Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt._

It was as much a mantra for the dead-dying-will die man as it was for him. 


	2. Twenty-Two

Rosalind shifted uncomfortably as the pouring rain sluiced down the back of her jacket and soaked into her coat. “We’re off course.”

“We’re what?” the man behind her shouted, straining to be heard over the storm. “We’re off course?”

“No, she said we’re on par for course,” Robert shouted back, glad for the shadows cast over his face. They would disguise his frown.

“She has to pee like a racehorse?”

Rosalind whipped around and shot a glare at the man. Without any warning, she shoved a battered tin-lined cigar box into his chest. “For you,” she snapped. To Robert, she hissed, “Number twenty-two is an imbecile.”

“Well, it’s not his brains we’re after.”

“No, but I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t drowned yet. Like a turkey.”

Robert snorted and struggled to maintain his grip on the oars.

Rosalind watched him squirm under her gaze. He knew she was right -- that they were far from the lighthouse they needed to find. It might be better, in the end, if they just let the boat capsize and move on to twenty-three.

“This is my old service pistol.”

“You gave it to him?”

“I thought it pertinent.”

The sound of the barrel being popped opened rang through the chaos of the storm, and Rosalind’s shoulders pinched. “Why do I need this?”

“It might be useful.”

“I thought it was just a rescue operation?”

“Rescue,” Rosalind snorted. “Yes, but for whom.”

“Sorry?”

“Do you know who you are rescuing?” She twisted far enough around to see him reaching back into the box. She couldn’t see what he is grabbing, but she knew it was the photo.

The man’s fingers traced over the worn edges, then places it carefully back into the safety of the box. “I’m saving this girl.”

She shorted again and glared at her brother for lack of anything better to glare at. “Of course you are,” she said, under her breath.

Robert frowned, and the man just asked her to speak up because he couldn’t hear her over the rain. 


	3. One-Fourteen

“Have you ever considered that it is not the man that is the problem, but the girl?”

Robert visibly hesitated, leaning around the canvas to better view her. “Excuse me?”

She arched an eyebrow, regarding the gondola from the corner of her eye as it slid past them. She could see One-Fourteen and the girl standing silently on opposite sides of the compartment. “He has not once succeeded. Do you think, perhaps, it is simply that _he_ is not the failing variable?”

“Are you suggesting the constant is at fault?”

Rosalind shrugged. “It is always a possibility.”

“That she might not want to be rescued?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might have.”

“I might _as well have_ , or I have had? Will have?”

“Yes.”

“To which?”

“Simply yes. To all, to the contrary. I do not think you’re right.”

“I do not state to that which you are disagreeing to. I am simply stating that she could be the issue -- not for any particular reason.” Rosalind shifted her weight, tried to not be annoyed.

Robert’s attention returned to the canvas. “It can’t be the girl.”

Frustration pulled her arms down, and she experienced the overwhelming urge to throw the stupid skull at him. “There is no way you can be so certain.” No possible way.

His arms dropped as well. “Let me put it another way: I am trying to mend a mistake. I will not allow it to be another girl.”

It was times like this one where Rosalind was reminded of the threat that Robert held over her. _Allow me to do this, or I will leave you._

He would take the girl and leave Columbia behind to wither.

“Break it.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We are going to break this reality and move on to the next one.”

“This reality is already broken -- will be, has been. And she knows.”

“The girl?”

“She is constant. We are constant.”

“We are not part of this experiment, Brother. We move, she stays.”

“She won’t.”

“We are not there yet.”

“We might not ever get there.”

“That is no one’s fault but yours.”

Robert destroyed the painting by smashing his pallet into the canvas. “I will not stand here and listen to your continued insults, Sister.”

She didn’t wince at his attack. “You always will.”

She hated herself almost as much as he hated her for saying that. Because they both know there is no tense argument over that sentence.

He did, he does, he will.

He always will.

 


End file.
